


Wine And Dine Me First

by TheNewMrsKujo



Category: Jjba - Fandom, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure part 3: Stardust Crusaders, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNewMrsKujo/pseuds/TheNewMrsKujo
Summary: Taken from my tumblr as a request//Fixed majority of grammatical errors and tried to reword sentences to make them flow! Polnareff finally manages to get Reader out on a date, and he's a hopeless romantic with a bad crush.Please let me know what you think!





	

As you stood putting your shoes on in the hallway, you suddenly became painfully aware of the scent of aftershave permeating the air and briefly had to wonder if it was coming from you because of the imminent strength of the smell. However, the quick, raspy knock at your front door told you otherwise. Standing up straight and taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you smiled as you opened it and was evidently met with a bright blur of redness being nearly shoved into your face. 

“Mon amour! You look magnifique this evening! Allow me to escort you to dinner!” A face then appeared behind the flowers, holding both a bottle of wine and a rather expensive looking box of chocolates.   
“Oh- are all these for me?” You ask, feeling slightly guilty for not getting Polnareff a gift and taken aback at there being not one- but three gifts. You didn’t know that there was going to be any sort of exchange happening so you couldn’t really be blamed, but you figured to yourself that you should have guessed at it given the male’s hopelessly romantic personality and all.   
“But of course! You deserve only the finest and the very best that money can buy!” He flashed a somewhat cheeky grin, but looked down at you with already genuine affection in his eyes.   
You could vaguely feel a faint blush dusting your cheeks as you muttered out a grateful thanks and took the gifts from him shyly, promising to be right back after putting the bountiful bouquet of red roses into a vase of ice water. 

It had taken him a while to convince you to finally allow him to take you out for dinner and now he had the opportunity; he seemed to be pulling out all the stops to impress you. Even from just the short interaction at the door, it was plain to see that he had out even more effort into his appearance than what he usually would; and that’s really saying something. He was extremely cleanly shaved -without even the idea of a Five O'clock shadow-, coupled with stiff leather shoes and hair that was styled to a pristine inch of its life signalled that he’d been trying to get ready for maybe four- no, five hours. Of course, you were guilty of probably spending the same amount of time too so you weren’t in the position to judge without being hypocritical.   
You placed the chocolates and wine on the side in the kitchen; realistically you didn’t even need to glance at them to know they were of French make since everyone and their grandmother knew how fiercely proud Polnareff was of his heritage, it made you smile a little to know he had something to be passionate about. 

You walk back towards the male, noticing him shift from his awkward stance to one of an attempted smooth suave upon noticing your presence again.   
“Ready to depart, mon amour? The table is booked for 7.30pm at that restaurant you chose.” Polnareff asked while holding out his hand towards your own. You took it, expecting the two of you to just be holding one another’s hands but instead, he twisted your wrist and brought your hand to his face, gently placing a kiss onto the knuckle.   
“A-ah! Yes! I’m ready!” You quickly turned around to lock the door, and hide your more-than-blatant blush that was searing hot across your face. He then hooked your arm into his own and you both went on your way. Of course, he then opened your side door to the taxi who had waiting so diligently outside. 

Polnareff kept your arm safely tucked away in his own until the waiter showed you to the table, at which point he only loosened his claim on your hand to pull your chair out for you; but pulled it too far and smacked the wooden leg into his shin.   
“Merde! That hurt! Who has chairs sharp enough to bruise someone? Ah- forgive my vulgar language! Someone as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t have to be exposed to such explicit vocabulary.” He internally scolded himself as you thanked him for pulling out your chair and asking how his leg was. He had told himself beforehand to try and keep his swearing to a minimum- oh, and to not smoke while he was on the date since he knew you weren’t a fan of the habit, but he’d already broken one of these guidelines. He sat down himself before asking the waiter to bring out the wine menu, despite his date and himself already knowing he was going to order French wine regardless because he thought it tasted best. And low and behold- he did, opting to purchase a bottle of Red 1975 Château Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande for the two of them to share. 

From across the table, he’d placed his hand on top of yours, slowly gliding his thumb back and forth across your skin, making you oddly aware that his hands were both warmer and rougher than you had expected them to be. He’d try to seem casual about it, as though he was just doing holding your hand nonchalantly while grazing at the options but over the top of the leather-bound menu he had hidden his face behind; you could see he was sweating.   
As a blatant, but not uncomfortable silence fell over the table, Polnareff saw this as an opportunity to impress his date with his knowledge of wine. He started by swirling the glass in his hand, smelling it slightly before taking the smallest sample and rolling it on his tongue.   
“I’m detecting a hint of-” It was at this point, he realised he didn’t know what he was detecting and the only word his mind was supplying was- “grapes.”   
“You mean, you’re tasting grapes… in wine?” The male quickly realised how much of an idiot he sounded after hearing the words being giggled out of your mouth. 

Quickly enough- the food came. You had ordered pasta in a cheese and white truffle sauce whereas your date ordered a rather weighty looking steak and, you had to admit, you’d be impressed if he finished it all. Conversation fluttered peacefully between the two of you- with Polnareff asking where you’d grown up and what kind of places you’d like to visit (unbeknown-st to you, he was practically planning your Honeymoon together at this point), along with the given terrible flirtation techniques he had managed to garner. You’d actually found his attempts somewhat endearing because every time he’d embarrass himself or would see you laugh at his joke, he’d look at you with unadulterated, blissful affection. Each and every time, it’d make your heart thump into a missing beat each time. 

Eventually the night was drawing to a close. After a hearty amount of food and Polnareff dropping a piece of chocolate Gateaux onto this trousers, he called for the bill. You got out your purse to pay for your half, but Polnareff refused; claiming that he should pay because you deserve to be treated to expensive things and that it was only right since he invited you out.   
“Allow me to call a taxi for you, mon amour. It wouldn’t do you any good to have to stand out in the freezing night so wait here.” You thought to yourself that you’d never quite get used to being called that. You did as he said, however, and waited; knowing it would upset his chivalry greatly if you tried to call your own Taxi or make your own way home on the bus. If anything, you were thankful because it let you have a minute to yourself to think. It had been a great evening and you’d truly enjoyed yourself and Polnareff’s company, you really wasn't quite sure how you were going to feel about hi- you suddenly found yourself grazing your fingers across your own lips, blushing at the realisation of the thought you were just having. When the male came back into the restaurant and invited you into the cold air of the night to get into the taxi, you wistfully urged the cool crispness to lessen the burn of the heat radiating from your face and for the butterflies in your stomach to return to the cocoons once again, at least for the time being. 

He opened the taxi door for you, as he would insist upon, and you leaned into it, just shy of going in.   
“I had a great night tonight, thank you. If you er- wanted to do this again, I’m free next Friday at 8pm. That is- if you wanted to! Mon Amour, I wouldn’t want to force you into my company if it’s pleasure was not reciprocated.” His nerves seemed to catch up with him slightly as his smooth facade seemed to deteriorate under a time frame with your imminent departure. Perhaps it was a crestfallen sadness at the closure of the fine evening.  
While his confidence died down slightly, your own only grew as your body moved on its own. Maybe it was the mood, maybe it was the expensive glass of wine in your system but you grabbed a hand round the back of his searing neck and whispered; 

“Shut up and just ‘embrasse-moi’, French boy.”


End file.
